Evan froze for a second.
He had no idea what Hannah was doing.
But she kept patting the chair beside her, urging him over.
Evan wet his lips and sat down.
The moment he did, Hannah leaned her head onto his shoulder.
Then she let out a long, heavy sigh.
After that, she stared at the ceiling and began talking to herself.
"Evan, Evan..."
"I really envy people your age."
"Carefree. No burdens. It must be nice."
Evan did not fully understand what she meant.
But after thinking about it, he guessed it probably had something to do with what Rowan had told him.
Truthfully, Evan knew very little about Rowan.
Before coming to Harbor City, he had never even met the man.
When Hannah got married, Jack had been the one to attend the wedding.
Evan had still been studying back then.
"Hannah, it'll be okay," Evan said awkwardly.
"Rowan treats you well, doesn't he?"
"With him around, you should be satisfied."
It would have been better if he had not mentioned Rowan.
The moment that name left his mouth, Hannah's eyes reddened.
Then she began to cry.
Evan did not know what she was crying about.
But women after drinking seemed to follow a certain process.
Sometimes even they might not know the exact reason.
As if drinking without crying would be disrespectful to the alcohol.
Evan had never been in a relationship.
He had no idea how to comfort her.
So he could only lift one hand and hold her shoulder carefully, patting her smooth back.
"Hannah, don't be sad."
"Don't cry. It's all right."
He could not say anything elegant.
He could only keep patting her back.
Hannah cried like a child.
Then, somehow, she fell asleep against his chest.
Evan was helpless.
He patted her lightly.
"Hannah?"
"Hannah?"
He called twice.
No response.
Evan held her upper body with one arm and slid the other beneath her legs.
Then he lifted her up.
Hannah was slim, not the overly full type, but her figure still had all the curves a woman should have.
More importantly, she was light.
Evan had done farm work back home for years.
Carrying a woman was not difficult for him.
He carried Hannah into her bedroom and placed her on the bed.
After thinking for a moment, he put the trash can beside the bed in case she felt sick later.
Then he pulled the blanket over her.
"Hannah, I'm going back to my room."
Evan turned to clean the dining table before sleeping.
Unexpectedly, just as he turned, Hannah grabbed his hand.
"Don't go, Rowan. Don't go."
Her fingers tightened around him.
"Rowan, if nothing else works, we'll go abroad."
"If they don't agree to us being together, then we cut them off."
Evan could not understand what she was saying.
He tried to place her hand back down and leave.
But Hannah clutched his collar tightly enough to nearly tear the shirt.
With the strength of wine, she suddenly hooked both arms around his neck and pulled him down onto the bed.
Evan lost balance.
His lips brushed against the side of her neck.
The contact was soft and warm.
He froze as if struck by lightning.
Hannah seemed to lose herself completely.
Maybe she had mistaken him for Rowan.
Maybe she had been holding back for too long.
She pulled at Evan and kissed him with drunken desperation.
Not on the mouth.
But hard enough along his neck and jaw to leave marks that burned.
Evan's mind went blank.
For a moment, all he could hear was his own blood rushing in his ears.
It was the first time in his life anything like this had happened.
Panic crashed through him.
He pushed Hannah back onto the bed, scrambled away, and fled the room.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Then Evan regretted it.
"Damn it."
"Damn."
"Evan Carter, what are you doing pretending to be a saint?"
He slapped himself once in frustration.
After standing outside the door for a few seconds, he turned back and opened it again.
When he looked inside, Hannah was completely still.
She had fallen into deep sleep.
Evan felt both disappointed and terrified.
He cleaned the dining table, then returned to his room.
Lying in bed, he kept thinking.
If something had really happened just now, what would Hannah do after waking up?
Would she curse him?
Would she throw him out?
Would she look at him like a thief?
His mind was a mess.
He lowered his head and looked at the marks on his neck.
They were still there.
Bright and guilty.
Evan sighed and forced himself to empty his head.
Tomorrow was registration day at school.
He had to sleep.
After counting fifty-six thousand seven hundred and thirty-one sheep, he finally drifted off.
The next morning, Evan woke early.
When he got up, Hannah was already doing her makeup in her room.
The door was slightly ajar.
Evan hurried to wash up and pack the documents he needed for school registration.
Hannah drove him there in her Honda.
After parking, she pointed toward the field.
"You're in Computer Network Technology."
"Find the sign with that name and register there."
To be honest, Evan did not really know what Computer Network Technology meant.
But these days, the internet was popular.
Back in his town, internet cafes had opened everywhere.
Evan liked going online.
The games were simple, but they were still addictive.
His idea was also simple.
Learn how to repair computers and networks.
Computers and phones would only become more common.
If he learned the skill well, he should be able to make money.
Evan carried his registration materials onto the field.
It was packed with new students.
Among the crowd were clusters of kids with strange dyed hair, sharp clothes, and the kind of confidence only teenagers with terrible fashion could possess.
Technical colleges produced that kind of creature in large numbers.
Not just boys.
Girls too.
They stood in groups, dressed like they had lost a bet with a hair salon, speaking in jokes only they understood.
Evan joined the end of the line.
There were about ten people ahead.
In front of him stood a girl.
He could not see her face, but from behind, her figure was not bad.
At that moment, several people came up behind him.
When only three people remained before Evan's turn, three dyed-hair troublemakers pushed from the back of the line toward the front.
Evan heard them chattering but did not bother turning around.
Also, they smelled terrible.
He kept pinching his nose.
Put it this way.
Out of ten guys dressed like that, nine smelled like they had declared war on soap.
"Why the hell are we lining up?"
The one with pink hair walked straight to the front and cut in.
At the very front stood a tall fat guy, around six feet, built like a wall.
Compared with him, Pink Hair looked small.
Relying on his size, the fat guy shoved Pink Hair away.
"Do you have any manners?"
"Don't you know how to line up?"
"Line up your mother."